The Intruders
by notsing
Summary: Prequel, but not one of my kidfics. An impulsive visit home turns awkward.


The Intruders

_First, this is a real story, not like my last posting! I don't apologize for my last posting though, since the feedback was AMAZING! Obviously, there are a lot of other frustrated Don fans out there besides me. I want to thank everyone for reviewing, and I'm happy to have provided a place for Don fans to vent. _

_Second, I was a couple of chapters into my second multi-chapter when my husband was diagnosed with kidney failure. That derailed my life big time. Luckily, he's better, but I've been struggling to get back into my story. So I've decided to post some one-shots, to see if I can get sparked again. Keep your fingers crossed this works! _

_Thanks for reading._

In retrospect, all the cars parked around the house should have tipped him off. It did register vaguely to him that someone must be having a party, but for some obscure reason, he hadn't realized that the someone was his own family.

He should have. After all, he knew (his parents had made sure he knew) that the great and amazing Doctor Charles Eppes had returned home, from Oxford no less. In fact, he had talked to Charlie on the phone just a few days ago.

True, the phone call was dutiful, on both sides; the brothers united, at least, in trying to convince their parents that there was some kind of brotherly bond.

But honestly, he hadn't thought about how excited Mom and Dad were about having their favorite darling back in the nest. If he had, he would have realized that of course Mom and Dad would throw a party to celebrate.

But the visit home had been impromptu, and Don realized, too late, ill-advised. It was just that, being so close to home he hadn't felt able to deny himself the pleasure of a quick visit. However, this visit turned out anything but pleasureable.

He and Billy had been on the hunt for Adam Ferguson, who had, improbably, managed to escape from Florence. Only one other prisoner had ever escaped that formidable prison, and anyone housed there was bad news.

The feds, anxious to avoid bloodshed, had rushed their top team on the job, Agents Don Eppes and Bill Cooper. They had tracked Ferguson west to his old stamping grounds, the San Francisco Bay area.

Ferguson, realizing the feds were closing in on him had fled south towards the Mexican border. He had snaked and turned on back roads, changing cars frequently, and leaving a bloody trail of death behind him.

It had become a massive manhunt, with Don and Coop in the lead. Although it had crossed Don's mind that he was in his home state as soon as they entered 'Frisco, he was so far from southern California that it had seemed irrelevant. But that subtly changed the further south they traveled.

Consciously, Don was concentrating on the task at hand; capture Ferguson before he killed any more innocents and/or crossed the border. But underneath, deep in his bones, Don was aware of some insistant part of him that kept singing 'HOME!'

If asked, Don would have said, and believed, that he had no desire to return to southern California. Oh, it had been a good place to grow up. It was warm, mostly sunny, with beaches and famous people and places.

When out-of-town relatives visited, you could always impress them by giving them a tour of Hollywood or something. However, he had been anxious to leave the west coast long before he actually did.

The Eppes had not been poor, but they were definitely not rich either, and Charlie's needs had meant little spare money or time for extended vacations. After college, Don had played in the 'A's for a team on the west coast. Such minor league teams did not travel far, and never went by plane. He knew the west coast VERY well, but had hardly been east of the Rockies, once more the Mississippi, until he joined the FBI.

Don didn't like to admit it, because it sounded so petty, but he had been jealous of Charlie going to Princeton not because it was one of the Ivy League schools, but because Charlie got to go to school on the east coast.

It had been years before he finally followed his younger sibling east. Hunting down desperate men with Coop may not be the ideal way to tour the rest of the States, but it beat staying tamely at home under Mom and Dad's watchful eyes.

But as he got closer he got to LA, Don was suddenly flooded with an almost burning pain to see his home, and his parents, again. He had ruthlessly shoved those feelings deep, making himself concentrate on Ferguson instead.

They finally caught up to Ferguson in San Diego, and surprisingly, managed to take him alive without much of a fight. Don and Billy thankfully turned him over to the US Marshals, and that's when Don allowed himself to think of home.

They were only a few hours drive away, and it seemed ridiculous NOT to stop for a visit. Coop had suggested that Don go without him, but Don had insisted that his partner would be welcome. How could he not be? Coop had saved Don's life more than once.

As it turned out, DON hadn't even felt welcome, once more Billy. They had knocked vainly on the front door, and finally made their way to the back, only to find themselves in the middle of a genteel garden party.

The backyard was full of self-important academics, smugly blathering away in their incomprehensible manner. Don had blinked at them, confused, and thought that they sounded and looked like his boring, pretentious little brother, before he finally remembered his boring, pretentious little brother had returned home.

It was at this point that one of the pompous professors noticed armed, rather grubby men in their midst, and became hysterical, screaming, "HELP! THEY'VE GOT GUNS!"

"It's okay!" yelled Don and Coop, showing their badges, "We're FBI agents!" Still, people were screaming and trying to flee, while Margaret and Alan called out reassurances. Things did finally calm down, but looking at the strained, embarassed faces of his parents and brother, Don knew this whole idea had been a mistake.

His family actually looked ASHAMED of him. Well? He was none too clean, he needed a shave, and most of all, he was armed. Don had never felt more alienated from his own family, and considering his childhood, that was saying a lot.

It was wrong, so wrong, of Coop and him, reeking of the real, dangerous world, to intrude on these helpless, myopic intellectuals.

Don could not get out of there fast enough. He told his parents, and Charlie of course, that he had simply stopped by for a lightening quick 'hello' since he was near-by, but he and Billy HAD to leave.

They finally did leave, to the obvious relief of everyone, even his mom, even his dad. He tried to hide the hurt, not wanting to embarass either Coop or himself, but Billy, like all good partners, understood.

Coop quietly took over the driving, and talked about sports while Don regained control. They were heading north anyway, and Don's bones finally stopped whispering 'home.'

It wasn't until they checked back in to their motel that Billy asked seriously, "Are you okay?"

Don shrugged, "Sure. Just found out Thomas Wolfe was right. You can't go home again."

_Of course, we know both Don and Wolfe are wrong, Don does go home again, and the family does eventually accept Don's job. But I figure that there HAD to be some awkward moments initially._


End file.
